Winter Sports
by Morbidly Obscure
Summary: Quinn and Rashel have a little fun. Nothing serious, just some fun and fluff. Oneshot.


Unless you have spent your whole life under a rock, you are probably aware of the fact that cats cannot stand water. Adversely, unless you are either supernatural or very strange, you are probably _un_aware of the fact that vampires aren't all that fond of it either. It is for this reason that Rashel and Quinn have spent many a rainy day playing intensely competitive competitive board games and discovering new and interesting uses for fangs and karate weapons.

Regardless of this strange aversion, _frozen_ water was perfectly fine, though the pair didn't exactly make a habit of prancing about in blizzards or sledding. Today was an exception to that line of behavior.

"John Quinn, I can't _believe _you have _never_ been ice skating," Rashel declared, lacing up the second-hand skates with deft hands.

"What can I say, I've been otherwise engaged for the past four centuries," Quinn said with one of his unsettlingly charming smiles that disturbed most people but caused Rashel's heart to beat like a triphammer... was that unhealthy? Probably; she should probably look into that...you know, once the whole "apocalypse" thing was taken care of, because she was nothin' if not prioritorial.

"That's no excuse," Rashel insisted, still shocked that her soul-mate had missed out on such important winter activities.

Quinn laughed, "I had no idea you felt so strongly about this," he teased, "in fact, I was shocked when you just _had_ to pick up these skates--it was just so _whimsical _of you."

Rashel laughed too; whimsicality wasn't exactly her thing, she just didn't _do _whimsical. Still, when she had seen the battered old skates just sitting by the curb, waiting for the garbage truck, she knew she just had to grab them. The pair had been cruising a clichedly abandoned country road in their newly acquired sleek, black sports car, a lovely early Christmas present from Thierry. Actually, it was more of a "Thank God You're Leaving Present," because Thierry had done a terrible job of _not_ acting relieved when Rashel and Quinn vacated his manor; it wasn't that they were causing any trouble _per se_, it was just that, well, Quinn was scaring the humans, and Rashel was scaring the vampires. It just wasn't good for anybody.

Of course, Thierry would have _loved_ to send Nilson, or Lupe, or _someone_ to watch over the soul-mates, but that just wasn't Rashel and Quinn's style. Besides, the pair was fairly certain that, if the apocalypse struck, between the two of them, they could handle it.

With that assurance, the two had set out for Boston so that Rashel could reconnect with old acquaintences, like Daphne and Vicki, and Quinn could terrorize them. Was it wrong that Rashel secretly wished that he would send Vicki into cardiac arrest? Once again, probably.

Either way, all was temporarily forgotten when Rashel caught sight of the skates, just sitting there so conveniently on the curb. After all, it was a perfect winter day: the trees were laced with snow, chubby men in red suits ran amok, and every body of water north of Vegas was frozen solid. Even more absurdly serendipitous was the fact that the skates just happened to be perfect fits for both soul-mates, and there just happened to be a little pond just a few miles off. What could she say? Sometimes, kismet happens.

Rashel laughed now, looking about them at the icy forest surrounding the quaint little pond. Really, it was _quaint_; Rashel was fairly certain that she had never before described anything as quaint. It was all very "Twilight Zone"

"Doo-doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo," Quinn intoned from behind her, snapping Rashel out of her musings.

"Stop reading my thoughts!" She chided, not even succeeding in sounding annoyed, let alone angry.

"You're projecting," Quinn informed her, and then with a smirk, "and yes, this _is_ all very 'quaint'; perfectly _charming."_

His tone alone made Rashel laugh—it was just so _Quinn. _"So," she grinned, cat-green eyes sparkling with uncharacteristically childlike glee, "ready to watch me skate circles around you?"

"Are we getting competitive already, then?" Quinn wondered, voice low and warm, "because I was thinking that maybe you could _teach _me," He glided his finger over the blade of Rashel's skate, which somehow caused Rashel's heart to skip another several beats, before meeting her verdant eyes with his own black ones, "Seeing as you're such an _expert_."

"Of course," Rashel said coolly, before rising in one fluid motion and cruising flawlessly onto the ice.

"Lesson one:" she called from the pond's center, "Standing."

Quinn frowned, clearly disappointed, before following his Rashel's instructions and attempting to rising skates. Rashel bit back a giggle as he did so; he reminded her of one of those baby giraffes on the Discovery Channel, all wobbly and adorable. Quinn shot her a black-ice glare at that thought, causing the giggles to claw farther up her throat.

Instead of indulging, Rashel glided effortlessly up to the vampire, reaching out an arm to help steady her soul-mate, but it proved unnecessary. Quinn gave her a smart-ass look, and Rashel rolled her eyes—vampire powers were _so _unfair,

"So, how am I doing so far, teacher?"

"Not bad," Rashel nodded her approval, "Now, Lesson two:" suddenly, she was far away from Quinn and swirling an effortless figure eight, "Try to keep up," and with this she stopped short, spraying a glittering shower of ice in Quinn's direction.

"Now tell me something," Quinn called, unable to help the smile on his normally icy face, "how is it that you can barely _stand_ in heels, but you're practically Baryshnikov on ice skates?"

"Less talking, more skating," Rashel called back, grinning at the veiled wonder in her soul-mate's voice.

"Have it your way," Quinn said nonchalantly from right behind her.

Rashel's eyes widened briefly in surprise, "Not _bad_," she repeated a little breathlessly.

"I'm a fast learner," Quinn shrugged, "if I have the right teacher."

Rashel just smiled, and then taught him how to execute a spin.

After that, they were just skating, practically flying over the ice, laughing, spinning, _dancing._ The pair carved the ice with their skates, gliding and whirling as though it was choreographed without a single flaw, faster and faster until they were soaring.

Hours later now, Quinn was spinning Rashel, her raven hair flying about her as she twirled like a top. Suddenly, as she was coming to a stop, the front of her skate snagged. Emerald eyes widened, she braced for impact, the ground rushed up, and, _stop. _There was Quinn, bent low, holding Rashel inches from the ground, his grinning face bare centimeters from hers.

"Saved you," he murmured, that grin still in place.

"Not necessary," Rashel breathed, her lips brushing his as she spoke, "cats always land on their feet."


End file.
